


Half Empty

by brandyllyn



Category: Trouble in the Heights (2011)
Genre: A Lot of Sex Okay, Against a Wall, Angry Sex, Blow Jobs, Chair Sex, Cunnilingus, Desk Sex, F/M, Fingering, Gentle Sex, Oral Sex, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-09 00:24:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4326768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandyllyn/pseuds/brandyllyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was supposed to be a fresh start, a new business and a new life in Washington Heights. But when Nevada Ramirez strolls through the door of your bar, demanding ten thousand dollars for his 'protection', you find yourself negotiating with your body.</p><p>You can only hope you find the money before he loses interest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My number one ask here and on Tumblr is a Character / Reader fic so this is my first try at it. It was interesting and had it's own challenges. Might do it again for the right story prompt.

Maybe ten am was too early to open.

You glance up at the clock as you slide the cash drawer into the waiting register. Back home, there would already have been a few people waiting to be let in when the doors unlocked, but here, in Manhattan, maybe things were different. It probably didn’t help that you were new, even if the opening party the weekend before had been a rousing success. And every night since then customers had filled the room until you’d been forced to kick them out. But still, maybe ten am was too early to be open in this city. Picking a cloth up from behind the bar you give the wood one last polish before slinging it onto the side of the sink hidden underneath.

_Maria’s_. Your grandmother’s name. She’d been about fourteen different kinds of crazy but she had introduced you to your first lager, your first ale and your first stout. Tapping her cane against the floor as she taught you the difference between the three. When she’d passed - leaving you with a small savings and the dying wish that you move on and away from Chicago - you’d taken it with both hands, leasing this place in Washington Heights and setting up a bar.

_Maria’s_.

Smiling, you look up as the door opens, a man dressed all in black followed closely by a larger man with a shaved head. The man in black craned his neck, looking around the bar. His sunglasses covered half his face - he’d see better if he took them off but you don’t say anything. He was giving off a bad vibe, practically oozing his way to the bar and leaning against it with one shoulder. But you paste on your customer service smile anyway. “Can I get you something?”

“Nice place you got here.” 

The fingers of your left hand tap against the bar and you continue to smile at him. “Grand Opening this week, all draught beers two bucks a pint.” 

He smiles back at you, and you find yourself wondering if he had the normal amount of teeth. With one hand he took his sunglasses off and his sharp green gaze meets yours. So, handsome as well then. _Great_.

“What do you recommend beautiful?”

You have to resist rolling your eyes as you pick up a chilled glass from the freezer below. “Try this. It’s belgian style but brewed with white sage and agave.” Sliding the glass across the bar you glance up at the man standing at his shoulder. “And you?”

“My friend doesn’t drink while he’s working.”

Your eyebrows draw together, “What is he, your bodyguard?” You grin, trying to play the joke off.

“Something like that.”

There wasn’t really anything to say to that so you don’t. You watch him take a sip of the beer, his eyes crinkling at the corners for a minute before he dips his chin and raises his glass. “You like it?”

“It’s got a bite to it.” He took another swallow, longer this time. “Mm, it does have a nice finish.” He set the glass down, leaning on one arm against the bar. “Tell me, is the owner around?”

“That’d be me.”

A look of surprise crosses his face - chased by something that might have been pleasure. “Ah, good. That makes this simpler.”

Your face freezes, your lips twitching for a moment. “This?”

“Think of us as your friendly neighbors, welcoming you to the barrio.” He takes a pack of cigarettes from inside his jacket, tapping it against the palm of his hand before pulling one loose. You don’t bother to tell him not to, he doesn’t seem the type to care. He lit it and took a long drag before slowly blowing the smoke out. Then he smiles again. He definitely had too many teeth. “It’s a good neighborhood, lot’s of hard-working people - you’ll do well.”

“That’s the idea,” you say carefully, eyes on the doorway. Two men stand just outside, blocking it with their shoulders. Well, that explains why you hadn’t been interrupted yet.

“Yes, yes, you’ll do well. If you can keep the troubles away, yes?” He meets your eyes, his almost liquid with false concern. He wants you to ask but you remain silent, meeting his gaze steadily. You didn’t move from Chicago for this bullshit.

“So many thing can happen,” he continues, “so many little tragedies. Flooding, fires, the storms.” Behind him, his bodyguard nods along at his prompting glance. “Not to mention, this neighborhood, it’s a little rough you know?”

“Is it?” you grit out, raising one eyebrow.

He nods at your with apparent deep concern, his cigarette hanging from between two fingers, dropping ash onto the pristine polished wood. “Drugs, the gangs, a lot can happen to a small business owner like yourself.”

If he only he would just get on with it. You both knew where this was heading.

Glancing around the bar he continues to nod to himself, as though the thought was just occurring to him and you bite back a growl. “It would be a shame, all that work and time and money to build a place, just to see it go to waste.”

Finally your patience snaps. “How much?”

His head turns sharply to yours, a frown crossing his face that you had spoiled his fun before a smirk settles across his lips. “Ten thousand a month.” You choke, a startled laugh bursting out of you and he shakes his head. “A small price to pay for protection amorcita.”

You make a mental note to look up what that means later. “Well, I think I’m okay. So if that’s all you came for…”

He tsks at you, making a face that was meant to be sympathetic but looked ridiculous on him. “No no no, don’t say that. It’s a deal, trust me on this. You pay for your peace of mind. How will you sleep tonight, in your big soft bed,” his eyes dip down your front and you can feel the caress of his gaze through your shirt, “knowing that your work is hanging by so _fragile_ a hope?” He knocks his hand on the bar, scattering more ash before stubbing the cigarette out against the veneer. “I mean, a place like this, just a little flame would be all it would… Gabby, how long would it take?”

“Ten minutes, maybe twenty,” the bodyguard says from behind him and the man in black shrugs, turning to you again with a look of concern.

“Ten minutes, so quick. Barely enough time to get out if you were in here.”

“Are you threatening me?” Your hand clenches on the edge of the freezer, wishing you had a gun or a baseball bat or anything at all to wipe that stupid smirk that played around his lips off of him.

“Of course not,” he holds his hands up, standing up straight and taking a step back. “I’m the welcome committee remember?” He picks up his beer, taking one last draw before setting it back to the edge of the bar. It tips, the glass shattering on the floor and he raises an eyebrow at you. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”

You watch him leave, chest heaving and nostrils flaring as the rage flows through you. When the door shuts and the figures move away you slump forward, cradling your head in your hands.

Well _fuck_.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Night!” Steven yells as the door to the bar closes behind him. It’s 2:30am on what was now a Thursday morning and you lift the last rack of glasses out of the washer and onto the counter. The main lights are already off, just some track lighting on the bar illuminating you as you work. 

You hear the door open and don’t bother to look up. “We’re closed.”

“Did you miss me?”

You shut your eyes, hanging your head for a moment before looking up at the men who just walked in. The man in black again, four of his goons spread out behind him - muscles flexing and looking intimidating. You’d asked around about him after he’d left the other day - and the responses weren’t reassuring. General consensus seemed to be that Nevada Ramirez was not a man to be fucked around with - and that he made good on his promises as well as his threats.

Should have put the bar in Brooklyn, you think to yourself longingly.

“What do you want?” you finally ask, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“You have my money?” he drawls, thumbs hooked into the loops of his pants.

You shake your head, “There’s no way I can gather that much money in two days. It’s just not possible.”

His eyes narrow, “I don’t care what’s possible, I care about my money.” One of his men steps behind the bar, picking up a bottle of scotch and slamming it against the countertop. It shattered, spilling the contents and about thirty dollars worth of alcohol. “Entiendes? You understand?”

You reach out and grab the man by the arm, jerking him back before he can grab another, “Stop, surely we can figure something out.” Nevada raises an eyebrow at you and motions the henchman back with a curt wave of his hand.

“You want to negotiate?”

The way the word slid from between his teeth makes you shiver and you nod. He regards you for a moment, his tongue sliding over his lower lip before he barks “Out,” and the men exit slowly. You follow partway, watching them as they line up outside, their backs to the windows - blocking the view inside. Behind you, you can hear Nevada’s foot tapping against the floor. 

“Well _chica_ , let’s talk business.”

“I can’t get you the money,” you turn back to him, “but I can let you and your men drink free…”

He’s shaking his head, his face pulling into a frown. “No no no, the money is not negotiable. I thought you understood that. What you can negotiate is _time_.”

“How much?”

“That depends on what you have to offer.” His eyes rake down your body, leaving you with no doubt to what he has in mind.

“Let’s say…” you stop, swallowing hard, “Let’s say I was willing to offer you… _that_. What does it get me?”

He seemed to consider the question, tapping one finger against his cheek thoughtfully. “I think a fuck for three days sounds reasonable.”

“ _Three days?_ ” you practically shout before shaking your head. “A month.”

He laughs sharply, the look he gives you so condescending you could just slap him. “If you’re going to be ridículo we can stop this right now.”

Sighing, you let your shoulders slump. “A week?”

“Four days.”

You let a breath out through your nose. “I say six, you say five and we end up at five so let’s just go ahead and make it five huh?”

His smile is almost warm, “Deal.”

Five days - in five days there wasn’t much you could do. Maybe get the police involved, although you weren’t 100% sure that was the best idea. If you had two weeks you might be able to scrounge the money up - but that meant at least two more times of this, maybe three. And then next month either finding the money or doing it all again. You sigh and nod, looking at him from under lowered brows. “Let’s get this over with,” you say, unbuttoning your shirt.

“No no no,” he tsks softly at you. “You chose this - you do it right. Like you _want_ it.” He leans back against the bar, his elbows resting on the polished wood. He stares at you, his full lips slightly parted and a small smirk playing on them.

You let out a huff of breath, dropping your hands to your sides. Staring at him you think that under different circumstances he’d be hot. If he was just some guy who came into the bar. Just a customer or a friend of a friend you met somewhere. But he’s not and you’re not and you’ll be damned before you let him destroy everything you’ve worked for. All you need is time, and it would really take very little to buy it you tell yourself…

Two steps brings you close enough to touch him, hands resting on his chest and you take those full lips with your own. Your tongue flicks against his skin and his own slips out to lightly meet it. He angles his head, deepening the kiss and you wrap your arms around his neck, going to your tiptoes to press your body flush to his. You feel his hands against your back, his tongue slowly stroking your own and you bite back a moan before thinking better of it. Sighing softly, you rub your body against his, moaning loudly into his mouth when his hands clench on your back. 

It was not going to be hard to pretend to enjoy fucking this man. In fact, it would be hard to pretend not to.

Your lips trail down his jaw, the stubble of his beard sharp on your soft skin and you catch one of his wrist in your hand, pulling it around and sliding his fingers into the cup of your bra. His breath is hot on your neck, his hand massaging the soft flesh. When your tongue flicks against his earlobe his grip tightens almost painfully and when you gently bite down and begin to suck on the sensitive skin he presses his teeth to your shoulder and pinches your nipple hard. You gasp and pull back, your eyes accusatory but he looks unrepentant, his hands sliding underneath your ass and lifting you, spinning you around and onto the bar, spreading your thighs apart and pushing the material of your skirt to your waist.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he mutters as he looks down before he smiles up at you. “Good girls wear panties you know.” His thumbs snake forward, softly stroking your flesh and dipping inside to feel your wetness. You lean back on your hands, watching him - his eyes alternatively on your face and your pussy.

“You’re soaking wet for me, putita, are you enjoying yourself?”

You’re panting, staring down at him over the rise of your breasts but before you can think of a retort his mouth is on you and whatever words were there become a low moan. Your fingers slide into his slick hair, the edges of it hard against your skin. All the while, his tongue lazily circles your clit, dipping down slightly to flick against your pussy before sliding back up to do it again. His hands are under your ass, pulling you up into his mouth and suddenly he’s eating you out like he’s starving. Your back arches, his name spilling from your lips and you can feel the sharp stubble of his cheeks against your thighs.

The tide of pleasure rises higher and higher and you press your pussy into his mouth, small high-pitched noises falling from your lips until he pulls back abruptly - jerking your hips from the bar so you fall into his arms. Your hands slide around his neck, using him to steady yourself as you get your feet under you but he’s pulling against your shoulders, pushing you to your knees on the floor and then his hands are on his belt. A protest springs to your lips - you didn’t sign up for this - but he takes your open mouth as an opportunity, gripping your hair in his fists and guiding his cock past your lips.

You try to jerk back but his hands hold you still. “Suck it.” His voice is harsh, his gaze even harsher as he looks down at you and you press your tongue upward, feeling his cock slide over it. He groans, shutting his eyes as he slowly moves inside your mouth and you rub your thighs together, feeling how slick you are. You were _not_ getting off on this. You didn’t like it at all, sex was about two people meeting as equals, not being used by some-

His fists tighten in your hair, his cock moving faster and deeper into your mouth until you choke and he pulls back a little before doing it again. Your hands come up to grip his hips - in your mind it was to push him away but in reality you use them to guide him, taking as much of him as you can and swirling your tongue on the salty cum that leaked from him in short irregular spurts.

“Fuck yes, take it you little slut.”

You moan as you suck against him, giving yourself over to the sensations and the feelings it stirred inside you. It’s not like this was real, that this was your future. Just a few quick fucks while you figure out what to do - what’s the worst that could happen? You shake the thought off, because honestly some pretty crazy shit could absolutely go down, and your hands slip behind him to grip against his ass and pull his cock tighter into your eager mouth. Your name falls from his lips like a prayer and you look up at him to see that he’s watching you, one of his hands moving to cup your face. He pulls back suddenly, his cock leaving your mouth with a pop and you can’t help the little disappointed noise that comes from you. He grins down, his tongue running over his teeth and he lifts you by one arm and turns you until you’re sitting on one of the tables. His hands roughly push the shirt from your shoulders, unhooking your bra and dropping it to the floor. He steps between your spread legs and drops his head to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, the tip of his cock playing against your wet folds.

You think briefly about asking him about a condom but the head of his cock is already notched inside of you and every thought flees as he bites your nipple. You cry out, your body arching back and he slides inside of you in one motion. His body leans into yours and you fall back until you’re lying on the tabletop, looking up at him. He’s still completely clothed, his hard cock barely visible between the line of his pants and where it moves inside of you. His hands grip your thighs as he thrusts and you shut your eyes against the feeling.

“Look at me puta.”

Eyes flying open you look up at him, his harsh face red in the low light of the bar. The corners of his lip curl slightly and he smirks as he watches your tits shake with every thrust of his hips. “Te gusto eso?” He angles his hips and you cry out, hands reaching out to grip his forearms. “You like that?”

“Yes,” you gasp and without warning he pulls out of you, sitting in one of the wooden chairs and jerking you off the table and into his lap. With one hand against your hip he guides you onto your toes, using the other to steady his cock. When you slide down against him his eyelids flutter and without thinking about it you clench your muscles around his cock. He groans, both hands on your hips to lift you upward then press you back down.

“I think it’s time you did the work don’t you amorcita?”

His hands lift, tweaking at your nipples and you let out a sharp cry before you rest your hands on his shoulders and rock your hips on him, rolling to the balls of your feet before dropping back - the deep fullness of him startling soft gasps from your lips. He watches your tits as you bounce, his hands cupping them, fingers rolling your nipples until he slips one hand down your body, insinuating a thick finger into your cleft and rubbing against your clit.

You come apart, back arching as you shout out to god and he urges you through it. “Yes baby, come for me, milk me with that tight pussy.” You see stars, his cock still thrusting inside you, his finger tip relentless against your clit. Then warmth and wetness as he shudders inside of you, his head falling back and his hand gripping against your mound. It takes a full minute for your breathing to slow to something resembling regular and you don’t move from his thighs, resting while your brain tries to recover.

Fuck if that wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had.


	3. Chapter 3

It would have been nice to be surprised to see him, five nights later, but honestly when Nevada walked into the bar ten minutes after closing you just sigh, reaching a hand out to Steven’s arm and motioning with your chin. “You can go home.”

Steven glances between you and Nevada who is leaning against the frame just inside the doorway. “Are you-?”

You cut him off, “Yes, thank you, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He slowly gathers his coat form the back office and leaves without further prompting. You look at the two men flanking Nevada. “Drinks?”

“They won’t be-“ Nevada starts but you cut him off.

“Oh come on, it’s chilly out, you’re not going to make them stand outside are you?”

The three men exchange a look but Nevada doesn’t protest when you place two empty glasses on the bartop. “Let me guess, a lager for you and for you… gin and tonic.” The two men glance at each other, one blushing a little but neither says anything as you fix their drinks, sliding them over the bar along with the remote to the fifty inch TV on the wall. Then you grab Nevada by the arm, pulling him down the hallway and into the office in the back. The door has barely shut when you pull your t-shirt over your head, dropping it at your feet before stepping closer to him. Your lips find his as you unbutton his shirt and push it and his jacket off his shoulders in one motion.

“What are you doing,” he asks, jerking away from you.

You pause, looking up into his eyes. “I don’t have the money, that’s why you’re here right? Didn’t seem to be any point in wasting time.” You unhook your bra and let it fall to your feet and his eyes fall to your hard nipples.

“Well, okay then.” He steps to you again, his arms wrapping around your back and you moan as skin meets skin. His mouth drops to yours, his tongue sliding along your lips and you let out a sharp gasp at the sensation. His lips are soft, softer than any have a right to be, and the contrast between them and the sharp stubble of his beard makes your thighs clench together.  You run your fingers along the back of his neck, into the soft hairs and then upwards to the stiff gelled edges.

Without warning, he lifts you with one arm beneath your ass, walking forward two steps to deposit you on the desk. Paperwork scatters around you and you repress the twinge of frustration that you’ll have to sort that out later. His tongue is on your neck now, tracing the tendons and you arch away from him so he can have better access. He’s mumbling against your skin, some bewitching mix of Spanish and English you can hardly make out, pressing you down. His hands run up under your arm, lifting your elbows upwards and then sliding along your forearms until he’s pressing his palms into yours. He adjusts quickly, catching both of your wrists in one of his hands and you realize your pinned beneath him and you gasp, your thighs growing wetter as you arch under him.

His free hand runs down your body, caressing your breast for a moment before sharply squeezing, catching the nipple between two fingers and twisting it almost cruelly. You cry out, partly from pain but his lips are on it immediately and the soothing, almost apologetic gesture turns your cry into a moan. He moves to your other breast, his teeth catching on the nipple and pulling upwards sharply until you gasp before letting it go and gently laving at the tender flesh with his tongue. His hand slides lower, fingertips just barely grazing the sensitive skin of your stomach and you squirm - your clothed crotch rubbing against his.

He plucks at the buttons down your shorts and you lift your hips to help him strip them off of you. The cool air of the office hits your wetness and you shiver, his eyes watching how your tits move with the motion. His tongue gently traces the underside of your breast, pressing against the skin, his nose nuzzling against your nipple. His hand rest on the inside of your thigh and you shift under him, feeling him fall to rest cupping you pussy. He laughs softly, his teeth nipping at the hard peak before pulling back and looking down at you.

“Did you touch yourself and think about me amorcita? Did you lie in bed, alone at night, thinking of this?” His finger is barely caressing you, lightly stroking against your clit and you lift your hips from the desk to try and gain more pressure. He chuckles, keeping his touch light before moving further down to tickle against your pussy. “Do you have some man in your life who fucks you like I do? Of course you don’t.” He tuts softly, pressing just the tip of his finger inside of you, “There’s no one like me. No one to make you scream, eh?” He presses deeper and you moan, shutting your eyes even though you can’t shut out the sound of his voice. “I want you to think about me the next time some pendejo has your ankles on his shoulders, think about how your body begs me to fuck it, how wet you get for me.” His finger gently moves inside of you and his thumb brushes over your clit. “You love this, admit it.”

You bite your lip to keep from answering, your body already betraying you with its every movement. He laughs, leaning down to kiss you before pulling back and focusing his attention between your legs. “Say it.” 

His thumb moves faster against you for a moment before slowing down, then speeding up again. The teasing is driving you wild until finally you gasp out, “ _Yes_.”

“Yes what?”

The words are tumbling from your lips against you will, “I love this.”

He smiles, pulling his hand from you and a moment later you feel the hard, blunt head of his cock teasing at your entrance. “Tell me to fuck you,” he whispers into your ear and you moan in response, wrapping your legs around his hips. He holds himself back and makes a disappointed noise, “No no, not yet niña, ask me nicely.”

He’s still teasing against you, rubbing the head of his cock over your clit and you arch your back, barely feeling his other hand come up to catch against you - holding you down more firmly. “Say it, say ‘fuck me Nevada’.”

“Fuck me Nevada,” you gasp out and he smiles.

“What’s the magic word?”

You close your eyes in humiliation, “ _Please_.”

The slow slide of him into you makes you cry out, sharp noises coming from your throat you can’t control. Every inch of him is heaven and you pull him closer with your legs, trying to hurry him up but he won’t be rushed. Both of his hands are wrapped around your wrists, his body leaning over you and his hot breath mixing with yours. You lean up, licking against his lips and he shifts slightly to capture your mouth with his own. Sighing you bite his lower lips sharply, then suck it into your mouth and gently pull on it - his body stuttering inside of yours as he groans. He begins to thrust into you faster, harder, hitting the places deep inside of you that make you moan and shiver. He pulls his mouth from yours, trailing his lips to your ear where he whispers praises and commands in the same breath.

“Fuck you’re tight,” hot air caresses your ear and you cry out, pressing your face into his neck. “Yes, that’s it, work that wet little pussy against me.” He groans when you do just that, hips rising from the desk to angle him deeper and you clench around him. “ _Fuck_ yes, do that again.” You do, not caring at all when his hips begin to slam into you, knocking you into the metal so hard it shakes. “Are you going to come for me? Wrap that tight little cunt of yours around me? Do it baby, come for papí,” and your eyes roll back in your head and you scream as you come around him. His hoarse groan, barely human, reverberates through your body as he lets your wrists go, clenching your hips to fuck into your spasming cunt. Sweat drips from his brow onto your breasts and as the last shiver of pleasure wracks your body he shouts, pressing tight to you when he comes inside of you.

His face is relaxed, his chest heaving, his fingers clutching into your sides. He’s still inside you, his cock softening slowly. When his eyes open, it’s to meet yours with a look you can’t quite place. Somewhere between satisfaction and confusion. 

You wonder if yours is the same.


	4. Chapter 4

The bar is practically humming with life as the crowd cheers a man in the corner doing shots off his girlfriend. It’s a Saturday night, the third since the opening and although the naysayers had told you that business would level out quickly, if anything it had picked up. There was barely room to move for the amount of people - an impromptu dance floor in one corner and some incredibly rowdy drinking games in another. It was exactly the kind of bar you always wanted - fun and cheerful and most of all _yours_.

You slide a beer across the bar to a taller man and snatch the five dollar bill off the counter. He shakes his head when you offer change and you turn to the next person.

His smirk instantly sets your teeth on edge. Nevada Ramirez, leaning against the bar with a small aura of space around him. No one is forcing it, his bodyguard isn’t pushing or shoving, but even in the crowded bar there’s at least three feet of space between Nevada and the world around him. Must be nice, you think to yourself before realizing why he’s there.

You shake your head before he can say anything, “Come back later.”

His eyes narrow, his knuckles knocking against the bartop. “No.”

Sighing you glance down the bar, at the quickly moving staff and the line three people deep yelling to be served. “Bud’s out!” Marcus calls back and you raise an arm.

“I got this one.”

You look at Nevada, motioning with your head for him to meet you at the end of the bar. He does and you gesture him under the wood, grabbing him by the hand and leading him down the short flight of stairs. His guard follow and at the cellar door you turn on him. “You, stay here.” Then duck under the low over hang and into the cool storage room. “Give me just a second,” you let go of his hand, crossing to the long row of beer barrels and deftly switching the pump from an empty to a full. You wait a moment, watching the gauge fill up - thinking to yourself about the quickest way to go about what is about to happen. Shrugging, you cross back to Nevada. He’s leaning against the wall, arms folded over his chest as he watches you and he stands up straight as you near him.

“Now about-“ he cuts himself off when you drop to your knees at his feet, hands lifting to quickly unbuckle his belt. You jerk his pants down roughly, scooping a hand inside his underwear to lift his half-hard cock out. A little flattering considering you hadn’t actually done anything yet.

“What are you-“ he begins but you don’t waste any time, sucking the head of his cock into your mouth and swirling your tongue around him. He groans, his hands rising to tangle in your hair and you wrap one of your own around the base of his cock, drawing your saliva down so you can slip your hand over him more easily. 

“Fuck yes,” he mumbles and you pull him deeper into your mouth - gently sucking and licking against him and meeting your lips with the hand fisting him. You draw back, until just the tip of him hangs between your lips - your hand mirroring the motion to the base of his cock before sucking forward and repeating the cycle. “Let me see your tits,” he orders and you quickly unbutton the front of your shirt, cupping against your breasts and lifting until they rest on the edge of your black bra. Your hands return to his cock, one stroking gently against his balls as the other continue to slide along his length, taking care and attention to the parts you can’t fit in your mouth.

His grip tightens in your hair, almost painful as he holds your head still and fucks into your waiting mouth. You use your own hands to control him as best you can, choking slightly when he hits too deep. You moan around him, his answering sound and jerking thrust of his hips telling you he liked that. You pull back a little, ignoring his grip on your head to lap at the salty precum leaking from the tip of his cock, making low exaggerated mm’ing noise then swiftly taking as much of his length as you can in one long draw. 

“Holy shit,” he groans and you do it again. Swirling your tongue around the head of his cock then taking him in as deeply as possible. He’s getting close, hot bursts of salty wetness falling to your tongue and you stop teasing him - instead sliding your mouth up and down his skin, his hips fucking your face. He says something when he comes, his hands locking on your head to hold you in place - forcing you to swallow every last drop of him. It wasn’t necessary, it hadn’t occurred to you not to.

You slowly lick at him as he softens against your lips, his hands resting lightly against your head, petting you softly. You glance up at him through your eyelashes and find him staring down at you, a look somewhere between bliss and admiration on his features. It was a little heady.

Finally, you sit back on your heels, letting his cock fall from between your lips to rest limply against the front of his pants. You stand, brushing your knees off brusquely and taking a step back. “I’ll see you in five days.”

He freezes in the act of tucking himself away, his eyes flying to your face, his gaze narrowing into sharp points. “What?”

You shrug, moving to the doorway, “Five days, remember?”

You turn your back on him, trying to keep your shoulders straight and steady but his sharp laugh stops you. “I don’t think so cariño.”

Turning, you watch him for a moment, leaning agains the wall again, his entire pose the very picture of insolence. “You got what you wanted…” you start to say but his quick negative shake of his head cuts you off.

“What I _wanted_ was a fuck,” he clarifies, “what I got… well, that was very good. You’ve got a very talented mouth and don’t think I’m not grateful, but that was not what I came here for.”

You step toward him, your back stiffening, “You’re fucking kidding me.” He slowly shakes his head, a small smirk playing on the corners of his mouth and you glare at him. You don’t think twice before saying, “Are you sure you can get it up again? Old man like you…”

The insolent act drops off of him immediately, stepping forward to catch your arm and jerk you back, spinning you both until he’s got you pinned between him and the wall. “Well then I guess we’ll just have to take our time.” One of his hands trails up your stomach slowly, brushing your breast before the fingers tweak at your nipple. The sharp gasp that falls from your lips is unbidden and the small smile of satisfaction he gives you is enough to set your teeth on edge. He steps back a little, glancing down at your tits before lifting to your face. “Strip.”

The soft word catches you unawares and you gape at him before you can fully process it. “I don’t-“

He shakes his head at you, “Don’t pretend that I’m forcing you to do anything, you have a choice.”

Some choice, money you didn’t have and couldn’t afford or fucking a stranger. But you can see in his eyes that he believes it, in some ways he _needs_ to believe it. Which is strange, you wouldn’t have thought a man like him would have cared. His hands are beside your shoulders, caging you in with his body - but you know deep in your soul that if you walked away he wouldn’t stop you. Would probably never bring it up again. You’d still owe him the money but that was business as far as he was concerned.

It didn’t make a difference and yet somehow made all the difference in the world.

You shrug out of your shirt, eyes on his face when you reach behind your back to unclip your bra. His eyes are on your breasts, your back arching toward him and he licks his lips as your bra falls to the floor. You slowly unbutton your jeans, shimmying out of them and leaning against his arm slightly as you kick them off your ankles. His eyes fly to your face when you take one of his hands in yours, drawing it down your body and under the band of your panties. You press his fingers into your wetness and sigh, “Then I choose you.”

His groan is heartfelt, his fingertips sliding inside of you for a moment before he jerks his hand away, roughly pulling the thin piece of cotton down your legs. Then his entire body is pressing you against the chill concrete wall, his warm hand a startling counterpoint when it slips back between your legs. He doesn’t touch you anywhere else, continuing to lean against the wall with one hand, the tip of one finger flicking lightly against your clit. You try to press closer to him but he ignores you, the slow steady pace unchanging. “Nevada,” you whisper and he presses harder for just a moment before pulling his hand away.

You make a protesting noise but he cuts it off with his lips, a long slow and deep kiss that has you clutching against his shirtfront. Your hands work quickly, stripping the cloth from his body and sighing in disappointment when his black undershirt is revealed. “Why are you wearing so many clothes?” you mumble as you pull the edge from his pants, caressing against his skin. He chuckles as you pull it over his head, his nose rubbing against yours. You nuzzle back, catching the soft skin of his lips between your teeth and pulling him towards you. The hairs on his chest tickle against your nipples and you make soft nosies together when your body rub against each other.

“He estado pensando en ti,” he murmurs into your mouth and you make a mental note to sign up for Spanish courses at some point in the future. He turns you, gently pushing you backwards until you sit slightly on a stack of beer cases. His fingertips caress your hip, and he slowly lowers himself to his knees in front of you, pulling you forward with one hand on the back of your neck so he can trail his lips down your neck. You shiver and feel him smile against your skin, his tongue dipping into the hollows of your throat. You sigh at the gentle scrape of his stubble against your sensitive flesh and he moves lower, rubbing his lips over your breasts in soft, whispering movements. It tickles and you gasp his name, feeling his lips curve on your skin but he doesn’t give you what you need, just continues light caresses down your chest and stomach.

He looks up at you, his eyes soft while his hands rub at you inner thighs. “He estado soñando con hacer esto de nuevo,” he tells you. Before you can ask what that means he leans forward, flicking his tongue against the lips of your pussy. Your fingers clench against the cardboard, back arching and he laughs softly before pressing forward, his tongue seeking out the delicate nub of flesh hidden within your folds.

A sharp startled noise comes from your throat when he circles your clit with his tongue. You knuckles are white on the boxes and it’s all you can do to hold yourself steady. With exaggerated care, he flicks his tongue down your pussy, gently pressing into your hot sex. The tip of his nose nudges against your clit and the dual feelings are nearly overwhelming.

“Nevada,” you moan, one hand rising to grip his hair and he pulls away, leaning his cheek against your thigh and slowly slipping one long finger inside of you. “No…” you groan, “please…” 

He softly kisses the inside of your thigh, “We’re taking our time remember?” Your eyes fly open, staring down at him. He’s smirking up at you and suddenly you realize, this is your punishment for that ‘Old man’ comment earlier. His grin widens as he watches the realization dawn on you and he bites the soft skin of your thigh. 

“ _Oh!_ ” you gasp, fingers digging into his scalp and he does it again, gently licking at the spot afterward. His finger moves agonizingly slowly inside of you and you squeeze your muscles around him. His tongue flicks out against your clit and you jump and yelp but it was just a tease. He comes up to one knee, steadying one hand on your waist while the other continues to slowly fuck into your pussy. His lips find your nipple and he sucks on it gently, his tongue flicking lightly over the hard tip.

“Nevada,” you moan again and he rewards the soft sound, nipping at the bud with his teeth and you nearly jump off the stack of boxes. He tsks softly at you, twisting his finger and adding another inside you. “ _Please_ ,” you beg again but he barely shifts, his hand slowly sliding inside your cunt as he moves his mouth to your other breast. When he repeats his licking and biting motions you start to shake and he stills entirely, pulling back and holding your hips down to keep you from fucking his hand. You can’t help the low whining sound that comes from your throat. He leans forward, lips caressing your neck before moving upwards. You can feel his hot breath in your ear. “Do you want me?”

“Yes,” you gasp out.

“Do you-” whatever his second question was going to be you cut it off, turning your head and kissing him, thrusting your tongue in his mouth and licking at his lips, drawing his tongue out to caress yours. You surge to your feet, pulling him upwards and wrapping one arm around his neck, the other dropping inside his pants to caress his cock. He was hard again and he jerked into your palm as you cupped him. His hands drop to your ass, lifting you slightly and pressing your back to the wall of the storage room. You gratefully wrap your legs around his waist pulling his clothes out of the way and helping him to thrust inside of you. You were already so close that just the slide of him is enough to tip you over the edge. You cry out, wrapping your arms around his neck and sobbing into his skin. He makes soothing noises, rubbing his cheek against your hair and holding you as you come on his cock.

After the last shudder leaves your body he kisses your neck softly, watching you as you pull back and meet his eyes. There’s a question there, a wild look as well, and you wrap your arms tight around him and kiss him - clenching your muscles over his cock. His low groan is all the warning you get before he presses you tight to the wall and fucks you, his hips hitting your thighs hard enough that you’ll likely have bruises in the morning. It doesn’t take him long to come, his forehead pressing yours and a long low sound rising from his throat. 

You hold each other, his strong arms supporting your weight effortlessly. He tilts his head to kiss you, soft and sweet and filled with something that might have been longing. The gold cross around his neck hangs loose and bumps gently against your chest. Finally, you make a disappointed noise and pull away from him - barely inches but the cold air seems to rush into the space and make you shiver. 

“I have to get back upstairs,” you say softly and he reluctantly set you on your feet, raising his hands to cup your face. He kisses you again before taking a step back. You’re suddenly very aware of your nudity but can’t seem to make yourself care.

“Me vuelves loca,” he comments and you glare at him as you pull your pants back on.

“You need to stop doing that,” you grumble, looking for your other shoe.

“Doing what?” he asks, shaking his head after pulling his black undershirt on. You hand him his button-down, trading it for your bra.

“The Spanish, it’s not fair. I have no idea what you’re saying.”

He laughs, stepping forward and helping you with the buttons of your shirt, “Te lo mereces.”

You slap his chest lightly, “That, that right there.”

He laughs again and pinches your ass as you walk ahead of him out of the storage. 


	5. Chapter 5

The first thing Nevada does when he steps into the crowded bar is search the room for his enemies. After satisfying himself that the place is clear his eyes seek you out, but you’re no where to be seen. He thinks for a moment, the swarm of people parting around him as he paces to the bar. Maybe you’re in the downstairs storage, or the back office. His cock twitches, already becoming hard as he thinks back fondly to the time spent in both places.

He catches the eye of the man behind the bar, vaguely familiar. “Where is she?” he asks without preamble.

The man gives him a considering look before saying, “Upstairs.”

Nevada nods, slipping to the back staircase and noticing the small set of stairs that lead upwards. A quick command has Gabby set up at the bottom and he swiftly climbs to the top. A small hallway greets him, three doors branching off from it. He’s not really in the mood to go door to door so he settles for leaning one shoulder against the wall - shouting your name with increasing volume until the door on the far end flies open.

“Jesus Nevada, what is wrong with you?”

His eyes rake down your body appreciatively. Barefoot, and wearing an absolutely tiny polka dot dress, the hem barely long enough to touch your thighs. A stiff breeze and he’d be able to see your pussy. Tiny straps hold it up, trying valiantly to contain your breasts. His eyes slide along you, licking his lips appreciatively until he has a sudden thought.

“You’re not with someone are you?”

The completely bewildered look that crosses your face for a moment eases his worry and then the understanding and swift shake of your head puts it to rest. He crosses the hallway to you, his coat brushing against your skin as you step back and let him inside. What he had thought was another office was in fact an apartment, decently sized with a small vase of flowers sitting on the table.

“Nice place,” the cheerful comment makes you tilt your head at him.

“It’s home I guess.”

He nods to himself. “I like your dress,” trailing a hand along the the kitchen counter he watches you out of the corner of one eye.

“My dress?” you look down for a moment before your eyebrows draw together, “This is a nightgown.”

That made more sense, he couldn’t really imagine you wearing something like that out. He takes the scrap of cloth in more carefully - the little bow catching at the front, the way the silky cloth caresses your legs. His mind wanders, imagining you spread out in a big bed, satin sheets billowing around you, nightgown creeping up your bare thighs. Or even better, the edge pushed up over your ass, his fingers tangled in the straps as he fucked you bent over a chair - every thrust making you call out his name.

“What do you want?” your voice pulls him from his reverie and he reluctantly brings himself back to the present. Well, not that reluctantly. While dream-you was willing and eager and delightfully flexible, his experiences with real-you had yet to leave him anything but completely satisfied.

“It’s Thursday,” he says, not feeling the need to say more.

You sigh, crossing your arms under your breasts and his eyes caress the skin as it pushes upwards. “I know what day it is but that wasn’t my question.”

His eyes narrow, “Five days cariño.”

Your hands are clenched on your upper arms he notices. “Come back tomorrow.”

He shakes his head, taking a step toward you and pushing the edges of his coat back to rest his hands on his hips. “That wasn’t the deal.”

“Fuck the deal,” you grit out.

He tsks softly, wondering where the woman who had dropped to her knees and licked his cock at that sight of him had gone. “That’s not how this works-“ he starts but you cut him off.

“I don’t care how this works, not today okay?”

Your eyes look tight, the corners crinkling a bit and he realizes suddenly that you’re not snapping at him just to be irritable. His brain pieces together little bits of information it hadn’t quite yet processed. Your skin is shades lighter than it should be, lips pressed together in a thin line - you’re blinking more, the corners flinching slightly as you do so. All the hallmarks of someone in pain. He steps closer quickly, ignoring your questioning noise and crowding into your personal space as he raises a hand to cup against your head. His thumb gently strokes at your temple and you moan a little, leaning into his touch. His other hand comes up to work his thumb against the other side and your eyes flutter closed as he massages you.

“What’s wrong amorcita?” he asks, watching your face.

You whimper, titling your head up, turning beneath his touch until he’s massaging your scalp. “A headache. All day. It just feels-“ the sentence is cut off in a groan when his fingers dip into the base of your skull, pressing the hollow there and then moving to the tight cords of your neck.

Without seeming to think about it you step forward, leaning your face into his chest and sighing softly. He stills briefly, before resting his cheek against your hair and continuing to rub and knead at the muscles of your head and neck. When he finishes, he cups your neck in one hand, tilting your face up to his. “Thank you,” you say softly and stretch up to brush your lips across his. He’s hesitant at first, not sure what you want but you take the decision away, lifting your arms to wrap around his shoulders and drawing his body closer. He feels your tongue lick at his lips and he parts them, letting your tongue flick against the soft skin.

This was new, different. Not a fuck but something much better. Your hands are on the buttons of his shirt, slowly slipping the plastic through the holes. His own catch the straps of your night gown, slipping them from your shoulders and sliding them down over your wrists. The softness of your breasts brush his chest and he sighs, gathering you closer and sucking gently at your upper lip.

With a little wiggle your nightgown pools at your feet and you take a hesitant step backwards, hands still holding him close to your naked body. He follows without comment, matching his steps to yours until you fall onto your bed together. The sheets feel almost unbearably soft against his skin and he has to resist the urge to roll around in them. Side by side your hands caress each other, his tracing the line of your thigh - over your hip and then across your back. Yours are on his neck, skimming lightly down his spine before cupping his ass through his jeans. He reaches between you, unbuttoning his pants and together you slip the last of his clothing off, pushing them down then over the side of the bed. 

His hand hooks under your knee, lifting it to settle on his hip and he presses his hard cock between your legs. The kiss is still unbroken, little gasps and moans rising from between you but they mingle together. You taste so damn good that he cups a hand behind your head to hold you still while he thrusts his tongue deep into your mouth to get more of you. He can feel your nails digging into the skin of his back and he slides his cock against your pussy, rubbing in the wetness and across your clit. 

Your hips move in time with his, the long slow strokes agonizing. “Nevada,” you moan and he closes his eyes briefly, enjoying the wet heat of you against him. Then he lightly grips your hip in one hand, holding you steady as he presses at a new angle, sliding the head of his cock into your cunt. The breathy moan that escapes you makes him shudder and he can feel the sound from his spine to the tips of his toes. When he’s finally fully inside of you he stops, settling you closer to him, one arm tucked under your head, both of you resting on it and continuing to gently kiss each other. He can feel your small hand stroking down his back and he mimics the motion on your thigh. You shift closer to him, his cock pushing inside a little further. 

When he starts moving it’s slow, almost imperceptible. Small rocking motions that press against your clit repeatedly - his fingers wrapping over your thigh and lifting it a little higher, the change of angle pulling low groans from both of you. He keeps his pace slow, steady, licking your lips and tongue and working his hips into you until your breath comes in short pants, your fingers clench against his skin. When the pants become mixed up with high pitched cries he moves his hand between your bodies, circling your clit while you pull him closer and cry out into his mouth. He swallows the noise, his heart nearly beating out of his chest while he fucks into you harder and harder and with a few swift strokes moans his own release into your skin.

You lay together afterwards, breathing slowly returning to normal - arms and legs wrapped around each other and with his cock softening inside of you. He searches for words, something to say that will make this normal again but he can’t find them. “Well that was-“ he starts but feels your fingers gently lay across his lips and stops.

“Please don’t. Just…” you trail off, snuggling closer to him and he concedes, pulling you in tight until he couldn’t tell where he ended and you began. There would be time to deal with the ramification of this later. For now, it was enough to pull the soft blanket behind him over your sleeping forms, enough to hold you tight and breath in the scent of your skin, enough to just be peaceful and calm… for now.


	6. Chapter 6

The night is cool, all of the windows to the bar propped open to let the summer breeze through. The man across from you, lean and handsome with blue eyes and incredibly soft-looking brown hair, laughs a little too hard at your joke and you feel your stomach tighten. A flirtation, solid and wholesome and oh-so-welcome in your life right now. Something to keep your mind off of _him_ and the things that he does to you.

“So what about you?” you ask, pouring another beer, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

The handsome man laughs at the question, his fingers lingering on yours as he takes the glass and you pause. His soft touch sends shivers through you and your lips part as he leans forward slightly. The moment is broken by a loud yell from the corner and you jerk away from each other, both blushing before you lean your forearms on the bar and smile at him.

“Well, when I was a kid I always wanted to be a cowboy.”

You giggle a little, “Was it the hats or the boots?” He shakes his head and sips at his beer.

“The hooves.” You give him a questioning glance and he clarifies, “I thought being a cowboy meant you were an actual cow _boy_. Like a mix of the two.”

You snort loudly, the laughter bubbling up from your lips. Your hair falls into your face and he reaches up and gently tucks a lock behind your ear. “You-“

Whatever he might have been about to say is cut off by a hand on his shoulder, spinning him around on the stool. A fist connects with his jaw and he falls backward against the bar. “What the hell?” you yell and look up to see Nevada - his eyes hard as he shakes his fist.

“Just what do you think you are doing careverga?”

Your friend tries to steady himself with one hand on the bar, his mouth opening but when he sees that he’s out-numbered he closes it quickly, glancing between Nevada and you. “I didn’t-“ he holds one hand up, “I didn’t know I was in the middle of something.” He backs away, sliding through the group of Nevada’s men who glare at him menacingly as he does so. 

“What are you _doing_?” you ask Nevada once the man has slunk off. He glares at you, motioning to the men around him before stalking around the bar. You back away as he approaches you but his pace never slows, catching your upper arm in one hand and dragging you back to the office. The door slams behind you and you jerk yourself away from his grip.

“What is your problem?”

Hands on his hips, one corner of his mouth curls up in a sneer, “I don’t care for sloppy seconds.”

“Sloppy-?” you start before you realize what he’s on about. “Are you serious right now?” He doesn’t say anything, his face a mask of fury. “Jesus,” you mutter and the corner of one of his eyes twitch, “I’m not your fucking whore Nevada, you don’t own me.”

“Don’t I?” the words slip from his mouth and fall between you like a gauntlet. His hand catches your wrist and he pulls you flush against him, twisting your arm up and behind your back almost painfully. He leans down and bites your lip, pulling on it with his teeth and then licking at the tender spot. You jerk your head away, struggling against his grip. “Are you not my putita? My little whore?” his tongue snakes out to trace the shell of your ear. “You sold yourself to me like any meretriz on the corner. And you can cry and moan all you like that I’m a bad man, that you don’t want me - but if I shoved my fingers in your pussy right now you’d be dripping for me,” he pauses, his breath hot against your skin, “wouldn’t you?”

You would, and you hate him for it. “You’re an asshole,” you snarl at him.

“Do you want me to stop?” the question hangs in the air between you. Of course he would put it that way, no responsibility himself for what was happening. Placing all of the impetus on you. He’d done it from the start: ‘Tell me you want it’, ‘Tell me to fuck you’, ‘Say it’. Never allowing you the safety of believing that he had taken the choice from you. And it _was_ a choice, not a great one and he was a motherfucker for putting you in the position of having to make it at all, but still your choice.

“If you want me to stop,” his voice is like silk over steel, “tell me now or lose the opportunity.”

Yet another lie, the choice was always there, no matter what he said. You knew it and so did he. But what did it matter? What was one more time?

You relax against him slightly, raising your chin and staring straight into his eyes. “Don’t stop,” not a breathy moan, not a plea and not delivered with a come hither glance. Just a statement, soft and strong. Something crosses his face, a fleeting expression you can’t place.

His grip on your wrist tightens and he spins you around, pushing you agains the desk and shoving you face first into the hard metal. Your free hand clutches at air before he catches it, twisting it up behind your back with the other and pressing both wrists to the small of your back with one of his large hands.

He lifts your skirt up, the cool breeze hitting your bare thighs a moment before he slips his finger under the band of your panties. His laugh is harsh, cruel. “I knew it.” His finger glides through your slickness and you shut your eyes tightly.

The sound of his zipper in the quiet space seems unnaturally loud and he jerks your panties down to you knees. His feet kick at your ankles, spreading your legs apart so he can slide inside more easily. His hand slaps against you ass when he pulls out, the tip of him barely touching you and then he thrusts inside forcefully. He does it again and again, each sharp slap stinging and getting mixed up with the pleasure of his cock inside you. 

Finally, he seemed to settle on a quick pace, his hands gripping your wrists and ass as his cock pistons inside of you, his balls slapping against your clit with each thrust. He harsh grunts echo in the room, each little noise magnified by the slick squelching sounds your bodies are making. He pulls out at the last moment, stroking himself furiously and painting your skin with his cum. His cock is still half hard, sliding in the cleft of your ass slowly as his breathing returns to normal.

When he lets your wrists go and steps away from you you don’t move. Still bent over the desk, your panties around your knees and your ass covered with his cum. Turning your head so you can see him in the corner of your eye you ask, “Are we done?”

You can see his hands jerk against his belt, tightening and tucking the dark leather viciously. His eyes dart between your face and upturned ass, his jaw clenching. “Yeah, we’re done. For now.”

Pushing yourself upright you let your panties drop to the floor - stepping out of them and kicking them away. He catches them with one hand and you grimace slightly - that hadn’t actually been your intention. You can feel his cum sliding down the backs of your thighs, sticky and slick. Taking a deep breath you stare straight into his eyes. “See you in five days.”

His fist turns nearly white around the scrap of lace he’s holding, a muscle in his jaw jumping just beneath the skin. “Five days putita,” he practically snarls, “see if you can go five days without needing some other man to fuck those sloppy holes of yours.”

You mouth opens to retort but he’s already gone, the door slamming behind him.


	7. Chapter 7

The clock on the wall slowly ticks its way to the end of the day. You had sent your staff home an hour earlier, when what was likely the last customer had left as well. Now, you waited for the hands to strike eleven so you could close down. Close down and wait for _him._

Five days, Five days of begging and borrowing and an emptied savings account. Five days of arguing with yourself and hating yourself. Five days of stress sitting innocuously in a little leather duffel bag in the safe of the office. Ten grand didn’t actually look like all that much in the end - barely taking up any room at all.

Sighing, you stack the last of the glasses behind the bar. Ten grand was all you had, but in the end the choice had been easy. _He’d_ made it easy for you. You should really thank him for that.

So why, when Nevada and his men stalked into the bar fifteen minutes later, did your hands start to shake? Why did your heart beat just a little faster? Why couldn’t you make yourself hate him?

His eyes are softer than they were the last time you saw him, a question lurking there. “Cariño,” he starts to say but you cut him off with a sharp shake of your head.

“Wait here.”

When you return he’s standing where you left him, but his bodyguards are outside, at their posts by the door. His hands are deep in his pockets, his shoulders slumped a little but you try not to notice. “Here,” you shove the bag into his arms and he takes it reflexively.

“What is this?” he looks confused, his eyes on your face.

“Your money.”

His eyes go wide and he unzips it, looking inside and doing a quick mental count. “Well then…” he glances up at you and you hold his eyes, breathing hard through your nose. His expensive cologne caresses you, but it’s better than breathing through your mouth. Because when your lips part anywhere near him you end up kissing him and damn but if that wasn’t the worst possible idea right now.

“Cariño,” he says again, his hands and the bag dropping to his side, “I thought you and I… I thought we had come to an arrangement…”

“Arrangement?” you ask, your expression staying neutral.

“A mutually beneficial arrangement,” he continues, “so that we don’t have to worry about…” He lifts the bag by his side slightly and you set you shoulders back.

“I will gladly pay ten grand to not have to fuck you again.” You pull yourself up straighter, ignoring the angry look that crosses his face. “That’s really what we’re talking about here right?”

He affects one of his nicer personas, his mouth curling slightly into a slight smile. “That’s the heart of it, yes.”

“Good, I’m glad we’re clear. Now get out,” you snap and his eyes fly to yours. His eyebrows draw together and his personable, charming act drops entirely.

“And next month?”

“I’ll worry about that next month. For the next four weeks I’m under your protection right?” at his nod you cross your arms over your chest. “Good, now get _out_.”

He takes a menacing step toward you, the bag dropping to the floor at his feet. “Watch yourself, being under my protection doesn’t protect you from _me._ I may like fucking you but doesn’t mean I’ll tolerate-“

“What?” you step to him, barely enough room between you for air let alone the boiling rage you’re both striving to contain. “The truth? Let’s be honest with each other Nevada, I think we owe each other that. And the truth is - I’m so fucking far out of your league you would never have stood a chance under normal circumstances. I might have enjoyed fucking you but without that money between us I’d have never been anything more than a wet dream to keep you up at nights.” You laugh, the sound harsh and grating even to your own ears. “You could have fucked into your hand and whispered my name in the dark, but there’s no possible world in which I would have returned the favor.”

You barely have time to process the look of pure fury that shadows his face before his hands lock on your face, holding you still as his lips crash against yours. Everything in you unravels, your tongue stroking his before you can think better of it - a low moan rising from your throat when his thumbs caress your cheeks. His cock is pressing against your stomach, hard and needy and it takes every ounce of strength inside of you to resist reaching for it. 

The kiss is hot and wet, harsh and unforgiving. When he finally breaks it his eyes bore into yours. “Are you lying to me amorcita, or yourself?”

You can’t help but reach for him, grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket and moaning softly when his lips meet yours. Your breath shudders through you and you pull him even closer, every inch of your body pressing to every inch of his. His arms wrap around you, his hands soothing down your back. A soft sob escapes from your lips and he kisses it from you, murmuring words you don’t understand against your skin. _Que te ayude, confía en mi, permítame_ … it’s too much. With every reserve of strength you have left you shove against him hard and he nearly trips over the bag on the floor. 

“Please leave,” you hate the tremor in your voice, the fact that you can’t make it an order.

He look mussed, did your fingers do that to his hair? His jackets is sitting askew on his shoulders and he studies you with an unreadable expression. His back is ramrod straight when he bends to scoop the bag up, backing away from you and walking the short distance to the entrance. “We’re not finished with this,” he warns softly as he pushes his way out the heavy wooden door.


	8. Chapter 8

When word on the street reaches Nevada he doesn’t hesitate before gathering his men into the Escalade. His harsh commands cause the driver to press a little harder on the accelerator than was necessarily called for, the streetlights flashing past the window. Information flies fast, but he’s still too late.

From the outside, _Maria’s_ looks almost exactly the same - all of the interior lights blazing but the place seems hollow for it. He jumps from the SUV before it can fully stop, pushing his way past the swinging door.

The place is a wreck, the mirror behind the bar shattered, tables flipped over. Someone had tried to rip the TV from the wall, dropping it and cracking the screen instead. Some of the chairs and stools are shattered and spray paint covers the long front of the bar itself. His eyes scan the room and he quickly spots you, bending over a large man and pressing an ice pack to his face.

“Hold that there, keep your head tilted back.”

“Actually,” Manuel corrects from behind Nevada, “leaning forward is better. Less chance of choking on your own blood.”

You don’t turn around, just press your hand against the man’s back and lean him forward. 

“What happened?” Nevada asks, instead of the ‘are you okay’ that springs to his lips.

“What does it look like?” Your back is still to him and he takes a step closer.

“Cariño…” he starts and you whirl to face him, hands on your hips. He feels rage begin to burn inside him. One of your eyes is puffy and beginning to turn colors, a jagged cut down the cheek below. It had stopped bleeding, but the streaks of red were still on your face. Your shirt was ripped at the shoulder, hanging loosely to your elbow. Your neck is red, scratches marring the perfect arc. And your lips, the soft lips he could still feel ghosting against his skin when he closed his eyes… the bottom one was busted, swollen. Something primal unfurled in his gut, a growl rising in his throat. The world seemed to turn red around him - his vision narrowing down to just your face.

“Don’t call me that,” you grit out from between clenched teeth.

“Who did this?”

“How the hell would I know? Eight guys come in here, three of them had guns. They got all of the money in the register, trashed the place.” You take a deep breath, the air shuddering through you.

“We will find them-“ he starts but you cut him off.

“Fat lot of good that does me now, where were you thirty minutes ago?”

“I can’t be everywhere at once, I only have so many men-“

“Then what fucking use are you?” you shout, advancing on him.

He takes a half step back before catching himself, “Excuse me?”

“What the _fuck_ does that ten thousand buy me if not your protection?” your fists are clenched at your sides as you stare at him across the broken wreckage of a barstool. “Those assholes come in here, they put a gun in my fucking _face_ and-“

He steps forward, pulling you to his chest with one hand, wrapping the other around your back to stroke in soft soothing motions. Why the fuck _hadn’t_ he had someone posted near the bar - one of his runners to keep an eye out? There was no excuse for it. He sighs, because he was half-furious and half in… well half in something with you and he couldn’t get one side to shut up long enough to make any reasonable decisions. And look what had happened, his carelessness had nearly gotten you killed. And probably more importantly - not that the thought occurred to him right then - would hurt his reputation. One did get as far as he did by breaking promises. As far as you were concerned, he’d just have to make it up to you, starting with now. He can be strong so you don’t have to be. But suddenly your hands are between your bodies, pushing against his chest harshly and stumbling away. He realizes in a flash that he’s misjudged the situation. Your face isn’t upset, it’s absolutely furious.

“The police are on their way,” you tell him and he freezes. “If you’re still here when they arrive I’m going to tell them you did this.”

Every muscle of his body tenses, eyes on yours. “You wouldn’t.”

“I _would_ ,” you tell him vehemently. “I don’t care that it wouldn’t stick, it’d be worth it. I’m willing to bet you have something on you that would put you away for a few years.”

He did, but you didn’t need to know that. “Cariño…”

“Do _not_ ,” you snap and he realizes that even in your fury you’re the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen. “I did every fucking thing you asked me to - I _fucked_ you, I fell… I gave you _everything_ and this is what I get for it?” You gesture at the wreckage around you. “They told me you were the biggest baddest motherfucker in the Heights, that I should be careful of you. But you can’t even protect one little bar?” You kick at a piece of wood and it skids across the floor. “So, I’m going to ask you again, _what fucking use are you_?”

He steps toward you one more time, “Don’t do this-“

“Get _out,”_ your chest is heaving and he can see the pain in your face as the cut on your cheek starts welling with blood, “and don’t you dare fucking set foot in here again.”

In the end, the sirens make the decision for him, his men flanking him as he exited out the back. Maybe you would have, maybe you wouldn’t - but he knew enough about women not to risk it.


	9. Chapter 9

You examine your eye in the newly installed mirror behind the bar. The skin around it is a brilliant purple streaked with sickly yellow. The swelling had only just gone down a couple of days ago but the bruise was running through the gamut of the rainbow. Tenderly, you press at the flesh and flinch slightly. It still hurt. Cursing softly you run your fingers lightly over the small scar on your cheek. It, at least, had healed quickly and cleanly. In another week it’s be unnoticeable and in a month probably gone entirely. A movement catches the corner of your eye and you glance at it for a moment before returning to your perusal of your face. Then you pause, processing what you saw.

“I thought I told you not to come back here.”

You don’t turn to say it, keeping your back to the door. The bar is empty, still closed as you tried to scrape together the money to repair all of the fixtures from the robbery. The small group of men just inside the entrance shift on their feet, throwing glances at their leader in the middle. He doesn’t move, his fist wrapped around a black plastic trash bag.

Sighing, you turn and lean forward slightly against the bar. “I said-“

“I heard you the first time,” his voice is low, harsh. What the fuck right did he have to be mad? You open your mouth to call him out on it but realize his eyes are locked on your face - more specifically the same eye you had just been examining. “How is it?” he asks and you wave the question off.

“It’s fine.”

His eyes narrow but he doesn’t say anything else, striding across the floor instead. The plastic bag drops with a heavy thud on the bartop but you don’t move to touch it. “What is this?”

“A gift.” Nevada says, his eyes on yours.

“Why?” the question slips out from your lips before you can call it back.

“Because I owe you.”

Hesitantly, you reach one finger out, gently tucking it into the opening of the bag. When you catch a glimpse of what’s inside you jump back, knocking into the bottles on the low shelf behind you. 

“Are these what I fucking think they are?”

“Someone lays a hand on you,” he says softly, “they lose it.”

You stare at him for a long minute, glancing down occasionally at the bag between you. It was almost… sweet wasn’t quite the word. The tension you had been carrying in your shoulders for a week lessens. “What am I supposed to do with these?”

Nevada shrugs, his hands pushing the edge of his coat back so he can hook his thumbs on his belt. “Put ‘em in a jar behind the bar, what do I care?”

You mouth drops open in shock before you realize he’s joking. Cautiously, you push the bag towards the man to your right. “Can you…?” Nevada nods at him and he steps forward, picking the plastic up and turning. “Wait!” a though occurs to you, “give me the rings.”

“What?”

“The watches, the rings, the bracelets.” You clarify and Nevada raises one eyebrow. You shrug at him, “Those I _will_ put behind the bar. To remind people.”

He laughs, his head tilting back and his body rocking with it. God you had missed him. It was ridiculous and unhealthy and if your grandmother was still alive she’d beat you over the head for it - but still… He’d had every opportunity to use you, use his power and influence on you. Instead he’d given you a choice; and while yes, it wasn’t much of a choice at all you couldn’t fault him for it. Another man in his position wouldn’t have bothered.

Missing him and forgiving him weren’t the same thing - but somehow a bag full of severed hands seemed like a good first step towards the latter.

“You are beautifully vicious,” he murmurs softly when he’s done laughing and it feels like the highest of praises.

“Thank you,” you whisper back and he leans closer, his forearms against the other side of the bar. You take a hesitant step forward, mirroring his body language. Sixteen inches of polished wood and a million unanswered questions hang between you but that’s a problem for another day.

“Have dinner with me tonight,” he says it like it’s a statement but there’s a hesitancy in his eyes. His body is so still you wonder if he’s breathing.

“Yeah,” you smile at him, “okay.”

The air leaves him in a rush  - so he was in fact holding his breath - and he smiles, warm and genuine. “I’ll have a car pick you up at nine.”

You nod, smiling slightly as you watch him leave. He stops at the door, turning back to you and you blush at being caught staring at his ass. He grins when he sees it and points at you, “Wear that little number with the spots on it.”

Your forehead furrows for a moment before you realize what he’s talking about and shake your head. “That’s not suitable for public.”

“You won’t be public,” he states, “you’ll be with me.”

“I’ll think about it,” you respond and he opens his mouth as if to argue before a small half smile plays over his features. He nods and leaves.

Well, this was certainly going to be interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~fin~

**Author's Note:**

> More stories by brandyllyn:  
> 'Debt Makes Promises' - Owing a favor to a known drug kingpin was hard enough, but when that person is Nevada Ramirez all bets are off. (Trouble in the Heights)  
> 'Further on the Edge' - Nevada meets a woman who gives him a run for his money. But she's not quite what she presents herself to him... (Trouble in the Heights)  
> 'Let Live' - If he was being honest with himself, this woman scared the shit out of him (Trouble in the Heights)  
> 'Bought and Paid For...' - To avoid going to a gala alone, Frederick Chilton procures the services of an escort. (Hannibal)  
> 'Time's Fool' - Chilton is confronted with a woman from his past, but will their unfinished business ruin him or save him? (Hannibal)  
> 'Good Man Feelin' Bad' - Rafael Barba meets an interesting woman at a gala. (Law & Order: SVU)  
> 


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